


Might And Compassion at Odds

by Rigel99



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-15 14:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4610379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rigel99/pseuds/Rigel99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Space is a dangerous place. No crew knows that more than that of the Enterprise NX-01. As the Security Team and the MACOs begin to find mutual ground on which to co-exist and work together, will it be enough to safeguard those under their protection? Part 2 of the Matthew Hayes Resurrected series. (Enjoying exploring the Reed/Hayes dynamic. Let's just see where it goes...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

People harbour some serious misconceptions about what it means to be a soldier.

People tend to think in stereotypes - a fundamental element of the human condition allowing them to compartmentalise and make sense of their world - that a love of weapons, battle and kicking the living crap out of things are a soldier's prime motivators. Now, of course, Matthew Hayes can't speak on behalf of all soldiers and of course, such men and women are not uncommon. But the system within which he operates is designed to train, control and channel the drives of those particular people in a way that benefits the system. Otherwise the system wouldn't work. But Matthew Hayes knew himself well enough to know his prime motivator had always been to protect.

True, it can be difficult to see past the BDU, the camouflage gear designed to allow them to blend into their surroundings; the weapons strapped to their thighs; the pulse rifles cradled in their arms like a loved one; and then there's the eyes. Those betrayers of our deepest-seated fears and desires. Of course, when you're trained in the Art of War like Major John Matthew Hayes, the mask required to conceal those emotions from the enemy comes as easily as hitting a target cleanly at 100 paces.

He drew his attention in to study his features in the porthole's reflections. Those eyes weren't a steely mask of military reserve right now.

Hayes looked away from the porthole and the star-lined vacuum of space towards the sleeping form of Malcolm Reed. For the second time in his life, Matthew Hayes had been broadsided by destiny. Destiny. That pain in the balls unseen force of the Universe. The force that now and again reminds you that control over your own life is a self-inflicted illusion - another fundamental of the human condition - kidding ourselves... He sighed deeply. Yes, he had allowed himself the luxury of caring beyond what that meant within his rigid definition of soldier. Returning to the bed, he crawled back underneath the sheets. As a warm arm came up to wrap around his waist, Matthew wondered if he could still be a fit soldier, a worthy protector of the people on Enterprise. Yes, came the subconscious answer. All he had to do was remember how much the crew of this ship meant to the Head of Security. He closed his eyes. And dreamed of his family…

* * *

 

“SHIT!” 

Hayes looked to his left to see Money, lying on her back with a split lip, glaring up at Hoshi Sato, standing back, with her hand over her mouth and round, shocked eyes. Most of the rest of the room also took pause at this rather unusual turn of events.

“I mean, Oh God! I— I’m so sorry! I don’t know—“. Hayes strode over. “On your feet, Private.” 

Money scrambled up and stood to attention, still glaring slightly but looking ahead, over Hayes’ shoulder. “SIR!”

“Seems the Comm Officer got one over on you. Care to explain?” 

“SIR! Just a slip, Major, a momentary lapse—“.

Hayes took a step closer to her. She didn’t flinch. Hayes didn’t expect her to. He’d trained them to stand their ground and take what was coming.

“Momentary lapses cost lives, Private. Or in this case a visit to Sickbay,” he said calmly.

“SIR!”

“Dismissed, Private.” As Money nodded and was about to take her leave, Hayes continued, “Oh and on your way, Private? Forget using the turbolift.”

She paused, looking confused. “Climb the decks. On foot.” The look on his face left no doubt he meant it. 

“YES SIR!” She left the bay, fuming. She knew his style of command well enough to know that he’d check with Doctor Phlox to make sure she was panting and sweating when she got to Sickbay.

She strolled out the door, reminding herself not to lose her cool or take her temper out on Sato. She’d slipped up and Hayes had doled out a fair punishment. She sighed as she made her way to Sickbay. ‘Blast it to hell,’ she thought, ‘I miss you, Hawkins…’

* * *

“Nice land, Hoshi. Mind telling me how you laid out one of my teams top hand-to-hand combatants?,” Hayes enquired.

“I don’t know, Major…,” she began. Her left hook had obviously surprised even herself.

Hayes glanced up to see Lieutenant Reed making his way over. Great, he thought, here comes some witty banter British banter to suck up. 

“Ensign Sato,” he said with a wide smile, “nice to see our extra sessions are paying off.” Hayes noticed he was pointedly ignoring him. “We may well make you a defender of the realm yet.”

“I think I just got lucky, Sir,” Hoshi replied shyly, glancing down.

“Don’t be modest, Hoshi. I’ve seen Money lay the Major here to waste a couple of times.” He glanced at Hayes then with a slight smirk, who gave him a cool look back.

“Well, I think that’s enough excitement for one day, Ensign. Dismissed.” “Yes, Sir,” as she quickly left the room, blushing slightly. ‘I wish the Lieutenant wouldn’t take such an interest in my personal tactical development, she thought, making her way to the Mess for something to drink. ‘Why can’t I just stay on Comms?’ She sighed. She knew why. Malcolm Reed cared.

* * *

“Thought that was funny, did you?” Hayes asked, as they stood together watching the remainder of the session. “It had a certain poetic justice,” Reed replied. “Surely even you could see that, Major.”

“No actually, Lieutenant, I don’t see what poetic justice has got to do with anything in this situation.” 

He looked over at him, eyes clear and sparkling. “I recall Private Money’s rather exuberant display on Commander Tucker not so long ago.” 

Hayes remembered. Money seemed to have lost her cool momentarily. He frowned. Not just at Malcolm’s observation of the situation, but that it had slipped under his radar. He’d have to have a word with her. And himself, very soon, he pondered.

He was about to query Reed on since when he had become such an expert at reading his team, when Tactical Alert sounded.

“SESSION OVER!, Reed stated loud and clear over the sound. “MAN YOUR STATIONS!”

Malcolm turned to head for the Bridge. “Lieutenant!,” Hayes called after him. “Yes, Major?,” he replied. “Assuming whatever the alert is isn’t going to blow Enterprise into another portion of space, can you meet me for dinner in the Mess after our shifts? There are a few things with respect to the working relationships of our teams that I’d like to go over with you.” The expression on Matthew’s face told Malcolm this was a serious request and not code for anything else, no matter if his sometimes overactive and sometimes all-too-graphic imagination might try to suggest otherwise.

“Of course, Major. And if it - whatever it is - does blow us all to smithereens, at least we found out one thing….” Hayes knew exactly what he was talking about. This is the effect of the sound of Tactical Alert on the Head of Security. “Better get to the Bridge, Sir.” Reed gave a curt nod and beat a hasty retreat, leaving Major Hayes wondering, as he went to join his team, if he would get any sleep tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

"You told the Major? About you and Hawkins?"

Kemper, Chang, Money and Rosenfeld were in Chang's quarters some time after standing down from the Tactical Alert.

Money looked nonplussed. "He asked me what was up. Noticed I'd been off the mark a couple of times in training sessions. So I told him. It's not as if Hawkins and I were doing anything against regulations while on duty. We both respected our positions in this unit enough to control ourselves, you know."

"But why'd you tell him?" asked Chang. "It's not exactly a problem now, is it?"

"That's just it, dammit. It IS a problem. Or at least, I've been making it a problem," she finished dropping her eyes to the floor, before throwing herself back flat on Chang's bed.

Kemper was the first one to click. "Is this anything to do with Sato laying you out cold?"

Chang couldn't help but give a small chuckle. "Man, that was SO funny…." Money threw him a cold look. He held up his hands in mock fear. "Please don't hurt me!," he said sporting fake wide-eyed fear and a grin.

She closed her eyes. "I was thinking about Lieutenant Reed when Sato landed that punch. I got distracted."

Rosenfeld threw in his cent's worth. "I honestly don't think he's your type, Money. You're far too much woman for the Lieutenant."

"Oh shut up, smartass!," she threw back. "I was thinking about how he let Hawkins die. How I resented Sato for making it back, thanks to the Major. But Reed? Reed couldn't hold it together long enough to keep his team on the mission to the Sphere in one piece. Couldn't even bring— bring a body back…."

Kemper sat on the bed beside her. "That's not fair, Money. You read his report. The Major took us through it. The Expanse was unforgiving in a lot of ways. Took a lot of good lives. Fleeters too."

She stood up suddenly. "I don't care about Fleeters! I care about this team DAMMIT!"

Everyone was silent. She took a breath. "Listen. I'm sorry. A big part of me knows I'm being irrational. I— I'll figure it out. I promised the Major I would. It's helped talking to you assholes though, so thanks." She turned towards the door to make a quick exit.

Kemper made to follow her. "You think that's a good idea, Sarge? She seems to be running a bit hot and cold right now," Chang pointed out.

"Don't worry about me," he threw back. "If I can wrestle a Klingon…"

He caught her 10 seconds later and soon wished he WAS wrestling a Klingon. I should listen to Chang more often, thought Kemper.

"Oh go to Hell, Sarge. What would you know about it?" Money scowled at him. "No one asked you to babysit me."

Rounding the corner, she walked straight into Sato who took a quick step back when she saw the wrathful look on Money's face.

"Apologies, Private Money—," she started.

Money kept her tone just the right side of civil. "Don't worry about it, Ensign."

Sato stood to the side as she brushed past her. Kemper walked up to and stood beside Hoshi, looking after Money's retreating back.

He heard her sigh. "I don't think the Private and I are going to be friends any time soon," she said, almost to herself.

Kemper decided to lighten the mood. "Are you kidding?," he said. "That was practically glowing for Money!" Sato threw him an incredulous look and gave him a small smile.

"Anyway," he continued, "are you lost, Ensign? 'Cos this sure isn't your neck of the space woods."

"I'm here to see Lieutenant Reed?" When our free time occasionally coincides, he takes me through some extra-curricular weapons training."

"Really?," he asked. "You don't seem the type to be gung-ho about that sorta thing, Ensign."

"Oh, you'd be surprised what a few years in space can do to a girl, Sergeant."

'I doubt it,' he thought but stayed silent. "Well as far as I know, the Lieutenant is in a meeting with the Major right now, so I guess they lost track of time. But I've got an hour to kill. How about I give you some pointers?"

"You sure?," she asked timidly. "I wouldn't want to put you—" He held his hand out in the direction of the targeting practice area. "It'd be my pleasure," he replied sincerely.

"OK. Thanks Sergeant. If there's anything I can do, though not really sure what use a Comm Officer would be to a MACO…"

"How about you teach me some swear words in a few alien dialects? Then I can blow off some steam at Money without her even realisin.'"

Hoshi laughed. This was a side to the MACOs no one on board was often treated to. "Deal," she replied with a smile.

* * *

Hayes took a deep breath and a brief pause at the food dispenser before approaching Malcolm. He didn't have much of an appetite.

Money.

He'd need time to process Money's revelations. He'd taken her aside almost immediately after the Tactical Alert with the intention of telling her to pull herself together. He'd not had a clue about her and Hawkins. Nothing had been apparent to him but the sense of unity and unwavering loyalty to one another that was the beating heart of his team. He wasn't losing touch with his team, was he?, he thought to himself. No. No way. If they, as she had gone to great pains to point out, had behaved nothing less than professional and according to his standards, why would he? Mmmm. His standards... During her confession, he could sense another layer to her revelations. He suspected that she had her own strong suspicions about his personal evolving relationship with Lieutenant Reed. Why wouldn't she if she already experienced the same herself? MACOs see everything. It's why they are the best at what they do.

He headed towards Malcolm who was obviously reviewing the readouts from the latest encounter. "Nothing serious then?"

"Mmmm?" said Malcolm distractedly. "Oh, Major. Please, take a seat."

He had been waiting for Hayes in the Mess as agreed. "No. Nothing serious. The Sub-Commander picked up a signal of Romulan origin. It turned out to be a communication beacon. No doubt simply gone astray from its original location due to some spatial anomaly or other."

"Must have brought back a few memories…" Malcolm looked at him questioningly. "From your encounter with the minefield…"

"You read that report?," Malcolm asked.

"I read all your reports from the NX-01's missions prior to the Delphic Expanse, Lieutenant. Would be duty negligent if I didn't now, wouldn't it?"

Malcolm resisted the strong urge to lean over to him as he sipped his water. Sometimes more than others, he had to work a little harder to keep himself in check. He found that if he reflected Matthew's own self-disciplinary approach to these one-to-one situations which they more frequently permitted themselves since finding the common ground on which they tread, he could handle it deftly enough. Professional and composed - not some lovestruck teenager - he may be, but the pull of Matthew Hayes could be somewhat overwhelming on occasion, even for a man of his measure and usual degree of self-control. Meara Shaw, he mused to himself, you inspire me equally cursed and blessed…

"So," Malcolm began, sitting forward to rest his forearms on the table. "You wanted to discuss how we could better improve MACO/Starfleet relations?" Matthew looked up from his food to see that familiar sparkle in his eye that was becoming a trademark innuendo signal. He managed to catch himself in time before returning any hint of recognition, just as he noticed Money, Mackenzie and Chang enter the Mess. Money gave him a brief, blank nod of acknowledgement, her features not betraying any knowledge of what had almost passed between them one way or another.

Hayes applied his most neutral expression and tone of conversation. "Yes, Lieutenant. That's the plan. If you can spare the time right now?"

Instantly sensing the change in tempo in the conversation, Malcolm fell into his rhythm, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms, hardly missing a beat. "Of course. This is a long mission. We didn't exactly start as we meant to go on, so there is plenty of room for improvement."

* * *

The MACOs took a table in the far corner of the room. Money positioned herself so she could watch the commanding officers from the corner of her eye. Something was different, she thought to herself, but she guessed time in the Expanse changed more than just a person's perception of space. She knew it had certainly changed hers. She turned her attention back to Mackenzie and Chang. They were excitedly discussing the weapons upgrades that had been added to the Armoury during Enterprise's time in space dock. She gave a small smile. At least there are some constants in the Universe, she considered.

* * *

The Mess was largely deserted by the time the Lieutenant and the Major had come to an initial agreement of sorts on how best to evolve MACO/Starfleet integration while retaining an uncompromised integrity in the command structure of both.

"It's all too easy to blur the lines," Hayes said. Reed nodded in agreement. The statement hung in the air for a moment, neither man acknowledging its further implications.

Malcolm stood. "Well if that's all, Major…" Hayes followed suit. "Not quite, Lieutenant, though I would prefer to carry on this conversation in private later?"

Malcolm noted his face had remained neutral throughout their discussion. And now. For some reason, the most recent scar beneath his ribs, his trophy of their first diplomatic mission to Qo'nos, tingled slightly. "Certainly, Major. I'll comm you when I'm free. Now, I really must get back to the Bridge."

"Yes, Sir."

As Hayes watched him leave the Mess, he felt his heart pounding. He wasn't looking forward to that conversation, but he had a feeling - a clear and present hope based on how far they had come - it would be a mutual understanding. He cast his mind back to Meara Shaw. Damn you, Ambassador, he thought to himself. You've made life so much better, and that much more complicated.


	3. Chapter 3

Malcolm pressed the chime on Matthew's door.

It opened to reveal Hayes still in his uniform trousers but down to a black, short-sleeved shirt.

Malcolm stepped in. He had been mentally preparing himself for this. While he understood - for the most part - why it was necessary, it did not make the reality of their situation any easier. "I get the distinct feeling," he began, "that this particular conversation is going to be about as thrilling as a night on Andoria without cold gear," as the door slid shut behind him.

'Trust Malcolm to apply some dry, British wit to an awkward situation,' Matthew thought.

They stared at each other for a few long moments. Matthew decided to give him an opening. If he could allow Malcolm a little emotional control over the situation, it might be easier on both of them. Life with Joshua had taught Matthew Hayes a lot about the needs of a certain type of partner and while Joshua and Malcolm were very different in many ways, there were some parallels that were apparent. A love-limited childhood for a start, that tended to fuel emotional uncertainties all the way through adulthood.

Malcolm allowed a sad smile to slip through the admiration shining in his eyes. "You know there was a time not so long ago where we couldn't bare to look at each other for more than a second without saying something disparaging…" He indicated to the desk chair. "May I?"

"Sure," Matthew replied, as he sat himself down on his bed. "Your mastery of the English language is much more commanding than mine. I reckon you got the upper hand many more times than I did."

"Yes, well. It would seem - in a rather transcendent way - cock-fighting lives on in the 22nd Century…," Malcolm quipped back.

Matthew would have laughed in any other circumstances. "This isn't easy…," he began, a slightly pained expression creeping onto his features. "The other night, in your quarters…"

"It was a mistake. I realise that."

"Stop right there, Malcolm. That wasn't what I was going to say," replied Hayes with complete certainty. "We crossed a line we both agreed we wouldn't. Gave in to a moment of weakness. Both of us. That doesn't make it a mistake or a real weakness in itself. Just means we're a bit more human than we might want to admit to ourselves." He sighed, not knowing if he should reveal to Malcolm the full extent of the issue and the potential fallout. Malcolm sat silently. Still looking at him. Waiting.

Matthew realised in that moment that they knew each other about as well as they knew themselves. And they were learning more about both with every passing day. He had to tell him. He'd made enough mistakes of his own to appreciate that the truth was ultimately a soldier's best weapon. You just had to know the path you were going to take en route to the ultimate part. And he still believed there was path to be taken with Malcolm Reed, though it might not be so obvious right now.

"I'm having issues in my own team," Matthew said. Malcolm frowned for a moment. It obviously wasn't the reasoning for this conversation that he had prepared for in his own mind.

"What kind of issues?," he enquired, trying to keep his mouth in check for fear of letting something wholly inappropriate slip about dissension in the ranks. He doubted that would go down very well with the commanding officer.

"Private Money. I found out today she and Hawkins were personally involved…"

In the space of seven seconds, he witnessed the series of realisations cross Malcolm's face. 'Wow,' thought Matthew. If he were completely honest with himself he didn't think he'd catch on so damn quick. Matthew was pretty sure with brain beans like that floating round his head, Lieutenant Commander wasn't too far in Malcolm Reed's future.

"So she knows about you and I? And you fear this will compromise your command of the MACOs?," he enquired.

"I don't believe she knows, no. But that's for sure something we want to avoid. Agreed?" He doesn't need to know that Money blames him for losing Hawkins. I sure as hell don't, thought Matthew.

"Agreed," Malcolm said, with a nod. He looked at Matthew admiringly. "You are totally in tune with your team, Major. Spotting that before it spotted you and I."

Matthew decided to come clean. Damn, he was on a hell of roll. Is this what it feels like to be drunk on Malcolm Reed? "To be honest, Malcolm, you flagged it."

Malcolm looked confused. "I did? Well, please enlighten me. I'm not always so ignorant of my own achievements," he said.

Matthew laughed. "And we all know how you like to revel in your own achievements, Lieutenant."

"Steady, Major," came the response accompanied by a playful growl.

Matthew sobered. "In the training session earlier. You mentioned Money's tussle with Tucker and then the incident with Sato… I should have spotted it." He looked at Malcolm with intent in his eyes. "But then I have been kind of distracted lately."

"And men like us can't afford distractions can we, Major?"

"No, Sir, we can't. Not if we want to be the best we can be at our jobs and protect what's important."

"Too true," Malcolm said quietly. He stood then. "So. We are agreed then. For the foreseeable future, I'm shacked up with Starfleet…" "And I'm married to the MACOs…," finished Matthew, standing up as well.

"Both military to the marrow," said Malcolm in a serious tone, eyes shining.

Matthew took a step towards him. But Malcolm knowing himself too well, took a step back. "Best not, Major. I fear a touch of any kind might well be the undoing of me. Under the circumstances."

Matthew nodded. He wasn't sure he'd come back from that either.

Malcolm clasped his hands behind his back. "I'll take my leave of you now, Major."

"Thank you, Sir." Matthew didn't want to leave it there. "Until the next shore leave?"

Malcolm paused at the door. "I shall look forward to it."

Matthew heaved a breath as the door slid shut. He pulled out the bottle of Scotch he had stowed beneath his bed. "Looks like it's just me and you tonight…" 'Roll on next shore leave,' he thought ruefully, as he pulled out a PADD and began familiarising himself with the new additions to the Armoury.

 


	4. Chapter 4

"Archer to Cargo Bay 2."

"Go ahead, Cap'n."

"How's it going, Trip? Any progress?"

Trip stood by the comm panel watching T'Pol as she circled the beacon, recording the readouts.

"Honestly, Cap'n, I reckon we're just looking at a piece o' space junk. We've been at it for 2 hours now and if there was anythin' worth findin', I'm confident, between the two of us, T'Pol and I would have found it by now."

T'Pol joined him at the comm. "Initial readouts did indicate some parallels with Romulan technology, Captain. However, I would surmise that the technology is old and redundant, given what we have observed from our recent encounters with the Romulans."

Trip chimed in. "I really need to get back to Engineering, Cap'n and work on those modifications we discussed. Floatin' in space at impulse is fun an' all, but Warp is better. I can review the data we've collected with T'Pol and have a report for you by the start of my next shift."

"Very well, Commander," the lightly static response came. "T'Pol, can you join me on the Bridge when you're done?"

"Certainly, Captain. I shall be along shortly."

"Great. Archer out."

Both officers turned their attention back to the beacon.

"I'm tellin' ya, T'Pol. Space junk."

"Be that as it may, Commander. It is an opportunity we are rarely afforded, to analyse Romulan technology, archaic or not. I may recommend to the Captain that we attempt to rendezvous with another ship that is heading back to the Sol system so it can be reverse engineered by Starfleet."

They turned together to leave the Cargo Bay. "Waste o' time if ya ask me," Trip said, tossing his head in the beacon's direction.

"Noted, Commander," replied T'Pol as the door slid shut.

The cargo bay was left in darkness. To all outward appearances, the beacon did appear to be nothing more than a piece of space junk. But outward appearances can be deceptive. And one human's junk, more often than not, is another alien's treasure.

* * *

It was late. Malcolm was in his quarters, writing a message to his sister, Madeline. Relationships, he thought to himself, are bloody hard work, but some are worth the effort.

He hadn't truly appreciated, until she came back into his life, how much Meara Shaw had meant to him. Thinking back to the last mission, and the years at Starfleet during which they had grown closer, he wondered how he had made it during the intervening years without her presence. In truth, he hadn't. Certainly, he'd grown and developed professionally. His role on Starfleet's flagship of exploration had tested him beyond limits to which he thought himself incapable of rising. He had steeled himself and coped. Just about. But at what cost?

It suddenly dawned on him how similar in personality, Meara and Matthew truly were. An inner strength and self-awareness combined with a latent gentleness that seemed utterly at odds with the soldier mentality that permeated their very souls.

He wondered if that's why he had decided right from the off to dislike and mistrust Matthew Hayes. Letting people in was never his forte. When he fell, he fell hard, and then had to spend an inordinate amount of time picking himself up and licking the emotional bruises. At least, on Enterprise and with so much responsibility on his shoulders, he had little time for such distractions. And while on this mission, he had learned a lot about himself through the tentative friendships he had forged with Trip, Hoshi and Travis, he wondered if there could be more done getting to know Malcolm Reed, the man, not just Enterprise's Head of Security.

He wondered if she were awake. Vulcans didn't need much sleep apparently.

He went to the panel and pressed his comm.

"Reed to Subcommander T'Pol."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant."

"I was wondering if I might have a few moments of your time?"

"Certainly, Lieutenant. I'm just finishing up a meeting with Captain Archer. Shall I meet you in the Observation Lounge in 20 minutes?"

"Thank you, Sub-Commander. I'll see you shortly. Reed out."

He pulled on his boots. Well, he thought, I did promise myself while in the First City I'd explore some of the benefits of meditation…

* * *

Money couldn't sleep. Neither, apparently, could Hoshi Sato.

She strolled into the gym to find Sato performing Yoga postures in front of the mirror. Money paused as she caught Sato's eye and then continued to move towards the weights. Sato didn't miss the look. One of the curses of being a hell of a linguistics expert is understanding there is more than the spoken word involved in the art of communication.

Hoshi couldn't let the wound fester. It was a small ship. She was a bridge officer and she'd be damned if she was going to let a MACO intimidate her.

She turned to look at Money. The MACO had her back to her and was concentrating on her own moves.

She took a breath and headed over to her. "Private Money…," Hoshi started.

And then all hell broke loose.


	5. Chapter 5

Hayes had just finished testing the upgraded weapons in Tactical. Best kind of stress relief, he thought. Well, second best maybe, he added to himself with a smile. He was heading to Cargo Bay 2 to restock the Armoury supply with some power cell units for the new weapons.

He felt the ship vibrate around him at the first tremor of weapons fire as the Turbolift came to a halt and Tactical Alert sounded throughout the ship.

"What the hell—?"

The lift door swept open and Hayes was faced with the sight of a transporter beam glittering halfway down the corridor that lay before him, as three Klingons materialised with their backs to Hayes and began marching decisively towards the Cargo Bay area.

Hayes was a soldier and no idiot. He paused to assess the situation and then thumbed the comm panel.

"Hayes to Kemper."

"Major? We're under att—."

"No need to explain, Sergeant. Kind of figured that with Tactical Alert and the rocking of the boat. Assemble the Alpha Team and get to the Cargo Bay area on the double."

"Yes Sir!"

Hayes glanced round the Turbolift door to see the three intruders vanish around a corner. He didn't hesitate as he followed.

Well, I've survived the Xindi, first "diplomatic" contact with Klingons… Third time's a charm, right?, he thought. Yup. Just keep telling yourself that, Matthew. He flicked the internal switch to full MACO mode.

* * *

"What the hell is this?," Archer demanded, as the Turbolift opened behind him, and Reed, T'Pol and Hoshi stepped out to take their posts.

To define Archer as angry right now would be an understatement. "You approach us under peaceful pretence and then open fire on my ship?!"

From the viewscreen, the frowning Klingon glared back at him unapologetically, his prominent ridges only enhancing the effect. "Yes, yes Human. We know all about your little trip to Qo'nos. But not all warriors of the Klingon Empire share the same regard for your species as do some of those on the High Council. That aside, this is not what this encounter is about. It would be a waste of weapons fire and we have no desire to do any more damage to your precious little starship than is necessary," he said with a leer as he leaned closer to the viewscreen. "IF you give us what we want," he concluded before leaning back.

Archer knew that Enterprise wasn't up to a firefight with a Klingon Bird of Prey in the best of circumstances. If there was any chance of a diplomatic resolution, he'd see how far he could take it. "Care to explain?," he asked, folding his arms, keeping his scowl intact. T'Pol would be proud of the logic of my thought process, he thought to himself.

Malcolm had been keeping an eye on internal sensors. "Captain. Sensors indicate that three Klingons have beamed aboard."

* * *

Matthew peered around the corner to see two Klingons enter Cargo Bay 2, while one remained standing outside at the door. Malcolm had mentioned this was where the beacon was being stored and while Hayes had no idea why it would be important to the Klingons, he made an educated guess that this must be the focus of their interest.

Matthew took one of the spent power cells from his pocket. Let's hope some of them are as dumb as they look, he thought to himself and tossed it over the head of the guard so it landed the far end of the corridor. The Klingon swung his weapon and fired instinctively, while in that instance, Hayes took a low crouched run at the alien, knocking him to the ground. The other two Klingons turned momentarily from the target of their hunt and were heading back towards the door, shouting, when Hayes' team made an appearance.

Ah, the Cavalry, Hayes thought, as he laid a couple of hard punches to the face of his prone opponent.

He was just about to roll away and let his team finish the job when from behind him, he heard one of the intruders shout, "jol ylchu!" He watched in horror as the swirling energy of a transporter beam surrounded him.

* * *

The entire Bridge team were staring silently at the viewscreen.

Looking dazed and half-conscious, a beaten and bruised Matthew Hayes was standing supported between two Klingons.

"Well, Captain. It would appear we have something you want. Give us what WE want, and we both can be on our way."

"I need to consult with my senior officers," Archer said to the his counterpart, without waiting for a response he turned to Hoshi. "End transmission, Ensign." Archer knew the Klingons appreciated decisiveness, even if in human terms, it came across as blunt and rude.

Archer immediately turned to his senior officers. "Suggestions."

Malcolm's clipped, controlled tones punctuated the air. He wasn't sure if was visibly trembling with rage but it certainly felt as though he was. "Sir, if I may. We can mount a rescue and I'll lead a team of MACOs, beam aboard the Klingon vessel—"

"No chance, Lieutenant. That's probably the first they'd expect and be prepared for. I'm not about to hand them any more of my crew as leverage," Archer's response left no room for argument.

T'Pol spoke up after a heartbeat. "It would be logical to assume, despite Commander Tucker's initial assessment, that the beacon is more than mere "space junk", Captain."

"Agreed," replied Archer. "Comm Trip and get down there again. You've missed something. I want to know what it is."

"And in the meantime? Major Hayes gets used as a Klingon punchbag, Captain?" Malcolm's eyes were like fire.

Archer hadn't forgotten. "Hail them, Hoshi."

"You've come to a decision already, Captain? Your crewman must be more valuable than I thought," the Klingon captain stated plainly.

"No more or less than any other member of this crew. If you know anything about humans, Captain, you know we value life - especially the lives of those we come to call friends," he concluded as he glanced sideways at his increasingly agitated Armoury Officer.

"Gah! That's what makes you sooo weeeaaakkk, Human," he replied punctuating the word as though an insult.

Archer ignored the slight. "We are preparing the beacon for transport," Archer spoke confidently without a trace of hesitation. "I want your assurance that your captive will not be harmed further and we will simultaneously transport the beacon as you transport Major Hayes over to Enterprise."

"Agreed. We have no argument with you. We just want the beacon."

"May I ask why?," Archer enquired, attempting to buy time though he knew he wouldn't get an answer.

"You may ask, Captain. But don't think I will answer," he sneered, before disconnecting the link.

Worth a shot, he thought.

Malcolm was looking tenser than usual, even for him, thought Archer.

"T'Pol to the Bridge."

"Go ahead."

"Can you send Ensign Sato to the Cargo Bay. We think we have identified the object of interest."

Archer nodded to Sato who all but ran to the Turbolift. The thought of the man who had saved her life from the Xindi weapon suffering any more than was necessary spurring her into action.

"Sir?" Malcolm's face was unreadable so Archer naturally, knew what he was thinking. Sometimes, when it came to duty, Archer thought he knew the man better than he knew himself.

"I need you at your post, Lieutenant. If the Klingons so much as change their climate control, I want you on point, keeping that eagle eye of yours on them."

"Yes, Sir," he replied, barely retaining his composure.

* * *

Hoshi made it to the Cargo Bay, double speed.

Money and MacKenzie were standing outside the door and armed, no doubt in case another attempt at retrieval was made by the Klingons.

Money and Sato exchanged a brief look. There was something there that hadn't been present before, thought Hoshi. She'd assess that later.

Commander Tucker was holding what looked like an old-style motherboard. He'd hooked it up to a PADD that T'Pol was studying intently.

They looked up as Hoshi entered and T'Pol held out the PADD to her. "Can you make any sense of this, Ensign?," she asked.

Hoshi studied the series of symbols as she engaged her mental archive of linguistic experiences. "It's not like any language I've encountered so far but there is something familiar about the patterns. I think given the nature of the fact it was hidden in the beacon, it may well be an encryption language."

"That is the supposition Commander Tucker and I also made," T'Pol stated. "And if it is Romulan as we suspect, there is a statistical significance that this code may be the key to decrypting subspace Romulan transmissions."

"Yup," said Tucker, "we could be looking at the Holy Grail of knowin' what those guys are up to!"

"I'd need a lot more time to decipher what I'm looking at," said Hoshi forlornly. "More time than I think Major Hayes or Enterprise really has."

Tucker looked at her with a grin. "You jus' leave that to everyone's favourite Engineer," he said, with a winning smile.


	6. Chapter 6

Archer's voice came through the comm to the Transporter Room to the poised and waiting Trip Tucker. "Ready, Trip?"

"Just say the word, Cap'n."

Archer looked at his tactical officer. "Malcolm. Get ready to target their long range sensor array, Lieutenant."

"Aye Sir."

"Now Trip," came the order.

As the beacon departed the transporter platform, another beam immediately manifested the unconscious form of Matthew Hayes.

Standing by, Phlox and two of the medical team sprung into action, hoisted him onto the bed, and with a nod to Tucker, he motioned them out of the Transporter Room towards Sickbay.

Back on the Bridge, Archer gave the order. "Fire, Lieutenant!"

"With pleasure, Sir."

Archer commed engineering immediately. "Rostov! Give us all the Warp you've got!"

* * *

Kemper and Money were by Hayes' bedside when he came round.

"Enterprise?" He tried to sit up and instantly regretted it. "What happened?"

"Starfleet savvy," said Kemper with a smile as he gently placed his hand on Hayes' shoulder and pressed him back down on the bed. "You're pretty bruised, Sir. Don't aggravate your injuries."

Money continued. "Commander Tucker managed to remove the part of the beacon emitting the signal that the Klingons identified, and install it into a modified Starfleet beacon before doing the transporter exchange. It bought us enough time to disable the Klingon's sensors before we went to warp and hightailed it outta there."

"Everyone else OK?," asked Hayes.

"Yeah," said Kemper. "Where Klingons are involved, it could have been a lot worse," he frowned. "Though obviously it was pretty bad for you, Sir."

Hayes chuckled, and again, regretted it. "I've had worse. After the Xindi, every else is a walk in the park."

"Time's up, ladies and gentlemen," came Phlox's lyrical voice from the other side of Sickbay. "The Major can have two more visitors and then he needs rest."

No sooner had he said that, than Hoshi and Malcolm entered the room.

Kemper and Money nodded at Hayes. "It's good to have you back, Sir," said Money.

Money held Sato's gaze as they approached Hayes' bed. They paused in front of each other. She'd had time to process her feelings after talking to the other MACOs and Major Hayes. Personal feelings would always be part of her, but that didn't mean they had to be part of her interpretation of the job. She would define them. They wouldn't define her. At least, if she wanted to continue to be a MACO.

"We're good, Ensign," said Money. Hoshi smiled and gave a nod of appreciation. "I look forward to sparring with you again, Private Money," Hoshi said with a hint of a smile. "I won't go so easy on you next time, Ensign," said Money. "I'm counting on it," replied Hoshi.

Hayes smiled at the altercation. There might be hope for MACO/Fleeter relations yet.

Hoshi went to Hayes' side and placed her hand on top of his. "You had us worried, Major."

Matthew looked at her and then at Malcolm, who was standing at the bottom of the bed, face marred with concern.

"Indeed, Major. Taking on three Klingons without the support of your team was foolhardy to say the least," said Malcolm with a frown.

"Sometimes us soldiers just react on instinct. I'm sure that's a fact you of all people can appreciate, Lieutenant. The safety of the ship will always be our priority. That, at least is something you and I can say we agree on," came Hayes soft reply.

"Well I thought it was incredibly brave, Major," said Hoshi firmly. "And I'm going to do my best to make sure those bruises were worth it, when I break that Romulan encryption code for Starfleet. We wouldn't have that if it weren't for you."

The firm but gentle tone of Phlox interjected. "Ensign, Lieutenant? The more rest the Major has, the quicker he can return to duty, which based on past experience, I am sure he is very keen to do, and I certainly don't want to keep him here any longer than necessary. His restlessness upsets my menagerie," he quipped.

"Very well, Doctor," said Malcolm. "We certainly don't want to impair his recovery time." He gave Hayes a simple nod, though the look Hayes had come to identify with the feelings he harboured for him rose briefly to the surface.

"See you in the Armoury soon I trust, Major."

"You can count on it, Sir."

* * *

Matthew Hayes was in his quarters with orders from Phlox not to be disturbed. He'd taken a bit of a beating and was still pretty bruised - inside and out - in a few places, but as always, the talented Doctor had done a fairly good repair job. He was grateful for the peace - and the familiar smell of Enterprise's recycled air - though he didn't need to be a betting man to know there was one crew member who wouldn't give a damn about the Doctor's orders as soon as his shift ended.

* * *

Malcolm Reed didn't care if he was breaking every bloody fraternisation rule in the bloody book. Right now, the "book" could jolly well find a nice dark corner in Earth's least visited library and make itself comfortable.

His body and brain were humming in anticipation of seeing Matthew. And seeing Matthew - with the full intention of performing a full systems analysis to make sure he was all present, accounted for and in sound working order - was the only thing on his tactically alert mind right now.

He pressed the chime. The door opened.

"Matthew…," he whispered.

It was the only word either of them said as the door slid shut.

* * *

The mattress had managed to make it to the floor. Matthew was lying on his back. Though thinking about it, he might be better off in the recovery position.

"We broke our agreement. Again," Matthew stated, staring at the ceiling.

"A mere technicality as technically, we are off-mission while we return the beacon to Starfleet," replied Malcolm, still trying to catch his breath. "That, and we are taking some shore leave but a few days from now. Plus, need I add, neither of us are on duty at this precise moment in time. So given the circumstances, Matthew, I'm good with the…. pause in our agreement. Though obviously we won't be a making a habit of it."

Matthew had known the instant he had allowed Malcolm entry to his quarters what was going to happen. Matthew had demanded the same privileges from him during shore leave after the Qo'nos mission, a mission where they'd almost lost the reckless Fleeter, thanks to his penchant for throwing himself - literally - into his work. Ah, the perks of the job, he thought sardonically. Fortunately, Matthew managed to make the half-crazed Englishman see it his way, before he got too carried away with himself. The look on his face when Matthew told him to keep his briefs on was worth it for that alone.

Matthew's breathing was slowly returning to normal. He turned his head to meet Malcolm's gaze. The Head of Security was looking like he'd just found the keys to a weapon's locker that only dreams were made of. Glassy-eyed and dumbstruck was a fairly apt description, thought Matthew. He laughed. "Damn, you should see your face, Malcolm."

Malcolm flopped on his back. "What can I say? Without a doubt that would have been worth getting kicked out of Starfleet for," he heaved, still a little breathless. "Where on Earth did you learn how to do that?"

"I picked up a few things during a tour of Tibet."

"A MACO? In Tibet? Isn't that akin to finding a Denobulan in a Vulcan monastery?"

"This was pre-MACO. I was doing a bit of soul-searching and took an interest in the origins of and practices involved in Buddhism."

"Are you pulling my leg? Now you're a PACIFIST?!," Malcolm pitched.

"Of course I am," he replied smoothly, as though it were as natural a thing as floating in zero gravity. "How do you think I managed to resist the temptation to toss you outta an airlock every time you were acting like a goddam Prima Donna?"

* * *

**Epilogue**

Matthew Hayes looked at the crumpled sheets strewn across the empty mattress on the floor of his quarters and smiled.

Even soldiers can harbour misconceptions of what it means to be a soldier.

Once you see past the uniform, the weapons and the shielded expression, in the end, they are just men and women. But more than that, they are men and women who've chosen to put the needs of others above that of their own.

People think love can cloud judgment, detrimentally affect the decision-making process. They couldn't be more wrong.

Soldiers depend on solid ground to keep them impartial, objective. Love and compassion can provide the most solid grounding of all. Sometimes, through no fault of their own, that ground can shift beneath their feet, throwing them momentarily off balance. Out here, floating in the vastness of space, soldiers take that grounding where they can get it; whether it's discovered in a member of your team who you feel more for than you know you should; honouring the memory of innocents lost who paid the price of humanity's pursuit of knowledge in exploration, or substituting your own happiness with that of the responsibility that comes with keeping those under your protection safe. Such qualities only served a soldier's purpose better.

And while Major Matthew Hayes may not be the perfect soldier, he would always be a compassionate one.

**END**


End file.
